Tale of the Ashen
by JavaBird
Summary: After waking up in a strange land, with strange things happening and forced to fight and kill in the sake of his own survival. A strange Umbreon hybrid is set on the quest to link the fire. Will he survive? Will he go hollow? That's yet to be seen. Rated T for teen. Blood will be a bit involved, death, depression and drama ensues. Cover art done by my friend Occultdreki on Twitter
1. Prologue

Prologue.

This Prologue is a explanation of what happens in this story. A sort of short telling of the sad stories beginning.

In this story, you will follow along with a creature named Joseph. He is a Hybrid of an Alicorn and a Pokemon, he is very much a kind creature, and in this story he is thrust into a situation with no combat knowledge, easy to trust most people, and forced to do things he never believed he would need to do.

You will follow him in as he slowly changes, and runs the risk of going hollow like the rest of the people there.

The Dark Soul has entered his kind heart, and through its dripping poison. It will erode his person Below I will put up a sizable reference on how he looks like.

attachments/176297628257091584/634077963767513108/Joseph_

Please paste this in a browser if you can.


	2. Chapter 1: Lost

Joseph slowly awoke as he rose from the dingy place he had been sleeping. His eyes were blurred by the sudden intrusion of dim light, even that dim light was too bright for him, he gave a startled, strangled yelp as he tried to put hands over his eyes.

The fading memories of fire and embers came to his mind, and he again gave a startled yell, trying to cover his head and eyes from the sudden and short pang of memory. But his limbs were like lead, his voice like sandpaper, barely able to talk.

As he rose to his feet, unbidden and unwanted he had a blurry inkling of what was around him. It was mostly set in gray and dim light. When he did get on his feet, and had full function of his limbs again, he gave a crying gasp. Startled and eagerly rubbing at his eyes.

His eyes felt dry, and his mouth even drier. He tried to speak out, call out for someone. But he cave a lurching cough, then heaved out as the coughs became violent spasms of pain. And to his horror, curiosity and dread. His mouth spewed out.. Ash..

He hacked, wheezed and tried to expel the contents of his stomach, but only dry heaves of ash came out of his mouth. He leaned over the crypt that he had been laying in. Unknowing at least to him that he had been there.

He tried to look down on his clothes. And felt unfamiliar fabric under his paws. He looked down trough blurred sight to see a light blue robe around him, with ill fitting boots too at his pawed feet. They felt awkward and bad, like the person that had put them on had so in a rough and careless manner. He gave a startled yell again, and backed a bit away, seeing the crypt that he had been leaning on.

Joseph was so confused. Where was he? Why did he, feel so wrong? Why did he feel, so different?

Joseph wracked his brain, trying to think of the reasons why he might be here. And came up short. His mind barred him from any access, only haven been given a small hint of the reason why. He had seen fire. A lot of fire. And then nothing.

He looked at the crypt. Did it have some healing properties? He looked inside. No. It was just a normal, sad. If not rather creepy crypt. A sudden shiver ran up his spine, and his wings gently flared out at the sudden rush of cold. Again, they felt odd as well. He looked on to them, and gave a gasp of disbelief.

His wings. His beautiful wings. Wings that he had been taught to keep clean and maintain them vigorously. They were. In tatters. It was like they were diseased, and ash, gently fell from his primaries and secondaries, out of all of them. He looked like he was raining ash from his wings.

He looked on at them in pure horror. Who.. Had done this?

Walking on shaking feet, and getting rid of the boots that he had been put into with some effort, since the robes did rather hinder his movements. He made his way onwards.

As he slowly walked, he checked his own person, seeing what he had. For some reason, he had a strange flask, it was very warm to the touch, but it didn't feel complete. At least, not yet, it was like it was missing something, something important.

He then hefted a mace that had been strapped to his side. He looked at it with a lot of apprehension. He wasn't one to go for violence first. He wasn't a violent creature at heart, and had only stricken in anger once, and never really remembered what had happened after that.

He let the mace go, letting it hang at his side. He would keep it until he knew what to do with it. Throwing it away would most likely just hurt someone.

Then were the strange black balls he had. He looked at them, and blinked. He wasn't sure what these were, but they looked dangerous. He put them back into his pocket, and moved on.

As he looked up, he came up to what seemed to be a armored body that lay against a basin of some sort. He stopped, drawing short, and taking hesitant steps to it.

There was something there. Beckoning to him. Calling out to him. He looked at the body. This had been his first time seeing one, a dead one. And it looked old.

He slowly crept up to it, and gave the body a gentle shake, and then drawing quickly back. His hands were shaking, and he looked on at the body with fear. But it had barely budged. The head simply lay limp, and the body slumped. Like the person inside the armor that he saw, was simply sleeping.

He reached out again, slowly, hesitantly, looking down at the body in what it held in its gloved palm. A blue flask, like the yellow warm one he had. But this one felt, cold, yet inviting at the same time. And again, the same feeling with the yellow one, this felt, incomplete. He looked at the strange blue flask, and then at the body.

He didn't know quite what to say. He felt he should say something to the fallen knight. Something that would feel right. But, there was nothing he could say.

Feeling awkward, he took a step back and moved on.

A few paces onward, he saw a dark robed figure. And Joseph drew short again. Slowly walking forward, he saw that the figure was slumped against a wall. He looked around, and saw nothing else. The place was deathly quiet. The figure ahead of him seemed to be holding his head, and bracing it against the wall. Like he or she was in great pain.

"E-Excuse me." Said Joseph in a dry and husky voice. He rubbed at his throat, it felt like he had gargled nails and spit them out. He tried to swallow, but it felt dry too.

The figure ignored him, so he tried again. "Excuse me. Do you know where I am?" He asked the figure, and a tense pause came to be about the two figures.

Joseph shuffled, unsure on what to do, or say. He looked at the figure, hopeful that he would get an answer.

The figure only turned, and Joseph, to no fault of his own, with the fear he had already, and with the strangeness of this world. He screamed at the almost husk like figure in front of him, and the figure screamed back, but not in fear. But in rage.

It lifted a broken sword and hefted it at Joseph. Madly swinging it back and forth as Joseph did his best to back away. "Please! Please! Stop!" He pleaded, trying to scramble and run away. But more of those things, seemed to appear.

Joseph didn't know where he was going, he turned, left and right, but they seemed to appear from all sides. One with a crossbow hefted its weapon, and fired.

Joseph barely dodged away, his whimpers and pleads going unheard. "Please! Just stop!" He screamed out, until it was cut short by an arrow going through his chest.

He gave a strangled gasp as whatever armor he had took the blow. But it still hurt. The burn of it hurt his chest. He gave a strangled gasp and tried to paw away at his chest, But that got cut short as he looked at one of the things, and it brought the broken sword down on his back. His fellows following in with mad fervor. The world fell to black as he gasped out in pain, and the gargled reply of his cries faded.

He felt like he was swimming in blackness, He could float there forever, he thought.

But that wasn't to be. As he opened his eyes, like just coming from a dream. He found himself on the ground where he had just started.

He looked around, and then looked at his chest. He was unhurt. He looked around, confused, afraid, very, very afraid.

Just where the hell was he? What kind of magic was this? Who were those people? Why had they attacked him?

He gave a startled, crying gasp. He couldn't cry. He did try, oh yes he did try. But his cries came in heaving and hyperventilating breaths. His eyes felt red and achy. His limbs felt like weak jello.

He tried to get his breathing under control, but it took him a good while. Otherwise was no use.

With a weak gasping hiccup, he got up again. And went on the same path, but this time, he crept on a little more carefully. This time, he avoided the cloaked figure, trying to go around them all, but it didn't work.

Again, one of the cloaked figures saw him, and gave that howl of anger, and soon enough, he was back where he started. This time hands flew to his face and he screamed in fear as he tried to back away. He looked around, and blinked. Was this some sort of cruel fate?

He tried again, and again. And again. This time stabbed in a large puddle of water as he tried to circumvent the figures. Then on his next try, he got an arrow to the head.

He tried, desperately, again and again without hurting them. Even using a shield that he had found on his person, strapped to his back, and somehow fitting neatly between his wings, but that didn't work either. They just overwhelmed him.

He tried going trough by running. He got grabbed and stabbed again. He tried to fly over them in a panic, his wings wouldn't lift him up but barely a few feet up, and then he had been shot in the wing, making him cry out in pain and crash down, and they swarmed him again.

He had lost count on how many times he tried and had failed. He always came back to that damned crypt.

He was starting to hate the sight of it. No. He loathed it. Every time he saw it again when he came back here. He was filled.. With so much rage. Why couldn't they just understand? Why couldn't they just talk?

He heaved again, crying, desperate to find a solution.

But then…

He looked at the weapon that was strapped to his side. He gingerly took it, and looked at it. He stared at it blankly. His face falling numb, and he was gently biting at his lower lip. He looked on towards the road where those cloaked figures were. And, he felt his stomach rising again, and he heaved.

Could he do it? Could he do that to another living being? He looked at the mace in his hand, his mind trying to desperately find anything else as a solution.

But it went blank. Completely and utterly blank.

He took the Mace in his hand, both hands, and made his way towards the cloaked figures.

He felt his anger boil, and he didn't notice that his hands, and along with that, his weapon, crackled with blue electricity. With his magic.

And as he approached the black figures. He was for once conscious of the fact that he wanted them to die. To die and hurt, and never, ever come back.

So the first black figure he approached, it got the blunt instrument of his weapon, right into the face. And he was surprised to see that it caved in so easily.

It gave a horrified death howl, and the rest of its fellows heard, and came rushing in with spears and broken swords.

Filled with his anger, Joseph met them on. The blunt bar of steel smashing into limbs, skulls and chests. He had no profession in this thing, but he swung about, and he swung hard. With all his might.

On the one with the crossbow, he came down on a few extra times. His screaming bellows that had made his ears ring finally stopped. He had thought that had been his heartbeat in his ears, snuffing out everything else.

He stood there. Panting, wheezing and shaking. His legs trembled, and he collapsed on the ground again. He was crying again, or at least, crying in the way he could cry.

He looked on towards the water where he had been stabbed. And it pained him, but as he crawled to it, he dunked his head in the water, and screamed his fury, his sadness and grief into it.

He had just killed people. He had taken his first lives. He.. He was a killer. A murderer. He was a no good nothing!

He drew his head back as he took in greedy, wanting breaths.

His fur was whet, and his hair damp on his head, and clung to his ears. He looked down at the water, and as it calmed. He saw his reflection, and gave a startled whimper.

His yellow eyes were tinged with red from all the weeping he had done. His normally black and sleek fur was almost an ashen gray. He looked. Horrid.

With a trembling hand, he put his paw up to his face, and wiped it of the dampness. Doing his best to wipe away the water, but he couldn't quite do it. It clung to him.

He gave up on that, and looked further down at his reflection. And then decided to drink from the water.

He found that he was thirsty. So very thirsty. And drunk as much as he felt he needed, then washed his face again with the water. It didn't taste overly good. But, at least now he didn't feel like his throat had gargled nails.

He looked down at his pawed hands again. They were still shaking. And he gulped. Trying to get the strange taste of the water out of his mouth and throat.

He did get back up, and headed up the road where the figures had been standing over, or guarding? He wasn't sure.

He made his way up, and saw finally what had been on the other side. Where he stood, he came to realize it was just an alcove of a large mountain. Because as he gazed ahead. He saw nothing but mountains, as far as the eye could see. He looked to the right, and there were more mountains. If his wings were up for it, he would have tried to fly out of here.

Then he looked to the left, and saw a large, towering building. It seemed to beckon to him. Calling out to him. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to answer the call, and go there.

He gently shook his head, and continued on the left side of the road. Clinging to his mace with both hands. The shield he had tried to use, laying forgotten at his back. It had brought him no protection, that was for sure.

On the way there, he came to what seemed to be a level platform in this alcove of the mountain, and on that platform, he saw a strange, or should he say, stranger sight? Then he had seen before.

There was a strange, twisted sword pierced into the ground. And as he approached it, it gave off a warm, welcoming heat. Like it was beckoning to him.

He reached out to it, his palm gently resting at the pummel of the strange spiraling sword, and then jumped back as it suddenly lit up. He yelped, bracing his mace like something would attack him. All of his nerves shot and ready for anything.

But nothing happened. Instead everything remained calm, and still. Just like it had before.

He gave a soft, and shivering sigh and approached the strange bonfire again, and sat by it.

He felt a sudden increasing warmth go through him. Like there was nothing to fear anymore. It was like a warm hug. It made everything right again, somehow.

He looked at the fire. His fear dulled, at least somehow for now. And he sat there. Simply enjoying the warmth. Not noticing, that he was once again, dry.

But somewhat, normal at least. For now.


	3. Chapter 2: Mighty Foe

As Joseph rested at the strange bonfire in front of him. His head gently resting on his palms, and his eyes closed. He felt how peaceful it was near the warmth of the fire. An eye cracked open, and looked to his right, where the large towering, and somehow beckoning building rested.

From this distance, he could see the bare outlines of what seemed to be birds. For the first time, Joseph felt a pang of jealousy for the flying creatures. Emphasised only, by looking at his own tattered wings, which he thought in his jealous dismay would be forever useless.

His eyes wandered to the weapon he had. A mace. An instrument that was practically a small slab of steel set in intricate ways to hurt and maim people. The blunt end of his weapon, perfect for shattering bone and cave in skulls.

By Arceus he still wanted to puke at the memory of the fight. He held his mouth closed, his back shivering as he held back his bile and tried to calm down.

He took a deep, slow breath. Holding onto what sanity he had left and put his hands to his face, gently rubbing the sudden fatigue he felt there. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to cry. But he had no time for the former, and he had done enough of the latter for now.

With shaking limbs, he stood up slowly and braced his hands on his knees. Taking a few more breaths to calm his nerves before getting up proper.

His hands went back to his weapon, and he slowly made his way forwards again. Only stopping after a few mere paces when he came to a fork of sorts. A few of the black cloaked figures were there, sitting, and seeming to be wallowing in sorrow, over what who knew or even cared. Joseph wasn't exactly in a pitying mood after what their friends did to him.

He drew a bit short, not able to decide which way to go. He opted to go for the left one, as that would make him avoid most of the robed figures. But there he would find one, laying in wait. It roared and came at him with its broken sword, and Joseph, forced to defend himself. Struck the beast down.

Bearing the mace down on its shoulders and chest, again and again until it lay slumbed. A great lump caved down where he had struck and he stared at the injuries that had snuffed the life out of the creature.

His hands shook again, his breathing grew erratic again. He tried his absolute best to not hyperventilate again. He tried to ease his breathing, slow it down until it became somewhat normal again.

Swallowing the lump in his throat in an audible, or at least audible for him, gulp. He made his way further to the left side and came to a platform of sorts. He looked down, trying to see if more foes lay there. But he found none.

What he did find was another, larger crypt then the one he had apparently stayed in and a withered tree.

On the crypt he saw something glinting in the dim sunlight. It gave off a strange, white sphere of an aura around it. Like it was calling to him.

Finding this odd, he jumped down and used his wings to sort of hover down, and found that he could do a semi sort of glide in the state his wings were in. He would need to test that later on he thought. It might be useful at least.

He looked on at the strange white sphere, and hesitantly brought his hand down to touch it.

Instead of touching the sphere, he sort of went through it. Like it wasn't even there to begin with. And instead he grabbed something more solid and small. The white sphere disappeared and instead he saw his hand grabbing a strange shard. He brought it up to his eyes and set the mace at the crook of his armpit and held it there so he could inspect the shard.

It felt strong and tough. Yet somehow it also felt flexible and pliable. Joseph tried to bend the shard a hit, but found that he was unable to do so. Finding it strange, he put it in his pocket and jumped down and headed to what seemed to be another platform.

This time though as he looked down, he would see a foe below him and one just straight ahead. He noticed that the one ahead had a crossbow.

It seemed to be guarding something as well. It seemed to guard an entrance into something. What it was leading into he couldn't say.

Giving a sigh, the winged Umbreon hefted his mace and jumped down.

Joseph didn't know which felt worse. The fact that he was delighted to see he had caught the enemy by surprise, or that the crunch he heard as steel met skull had produced a satisfying end to his foe.

He gave a shiver of disgust and horror. He would decide on both.

This time he rushed the archer. Allowing him no time to bring his weapon to bear, he was dealt with swiftly.

Looking around, he saw that a few more foes were behind him and hadn't yet seen him. He took that as good fortune and went through the large pillars gate, and entered what could only be explained and described as a cemetery.

He paused as he made his way down to the bottom step and looked around. Everywhere he looked there were gravestones or crypts of varying sizes. And only ahead of him there seemed to be an actual person.

Joseph drew short and looked back with great trepidation. His hands gripping the mace tightly as he did so, and looking back at the figure. He had nowhere to go but forward, right?

With a few, shaky steps. He drew closer to the figure.

He was kneeling down on his knees. A hand resting on his lap and the other laying limp at his side. A strange spiraled and twisted sword sat pierced in his shoulder and Joseph gave a gasp.

"Sir?" He called out weakly. "Sir, are you okay?"

Silence was the only answer. The figure knelt there. Inert and unmoving. Joseph slowly approached closer and looked at the figure. He, or at least he thought it was a he. The armor at least hinted at it and the mask hid the face. So he couldn't be sure. Looked to be a very tall human. He would guess, somewhere around 7 or 8 feet.

He looked at the spiraled sword that was in his shoulder and looked at the human again. He thought he was dead. He looked dead. Joseph looked at the sword again and was going to leave it be. But it seemed to call out to him, inviting him to take it out.

He hesitated. Not wanting to defile this poor man's body. He seemed to have been a great man if all the candles around his resting place where to be any indication. So it felt wrong.

But the sword seemed to just insist that he drew it. Giving a soft mumbled "Sorry." To the corpse, he took the sword and heaved.

The sword didn't get loose at first. But as he pulled, it grated on the armor, and gave a sickening sound as it was finally removed. Blood spilled across the earth. It was dark, it seemed coagulated. And to Joseph, it smelled foul, it smelled sickening. It smelled corrupted.

Joseph looked at it with confusion and disgust. Why had it been buried in that guy. And why had it wanted him to draw it? And why did his old blood smell so foul?

He was snapped from his thoughts as the strange tall human shifted and moved. It grabbed its weapon, a great mass of a halberd, and looked directly at Joseph.

The eyes he could see through the holes that were the masks eyes. He saw them glint with red, and murderous light. This caused Joseph to jump back with fright. He hefted his weapon, bearing it at the large man, but he didn't seem deterred.

He rose up to his full height, and bore the halberd towards Joseph, it was a challenge. And the strange man with the glowing red eyes made it clear that Joseph had no choice but to accept.

His throat dry, he gave a gulp and bore his mace towards the figure. The weapon still unfamiliar and awkward in his arms, and as he stared at the man. He felt his body shake at the full force of his gaze.

Then without much preamble, the man struck. Swing his halberd towards Joseph's neck, whom barely dodged out of the way. He scrambled, he tried to back away to create distance, but the man was clever and struck again, this time the blow went to Joseph's ribs and he flew back. The air crushed from his lungs. His chest burned horribly. It was like someone had put a hot poker and shoved it down on him, but what was worse. The heat was cold. So very cold, and robbed all breath from him.

He tried to get up, but his world sank into darkness again as a blow came from nowhere down on his shoulder.

When he awoke again, he was back at the bonfire he had rested by. He gave a gasp and looked around. He shivered and clutched his chest. The burning feeling was gone. He didn't feel like a cold hot rod was stuck in his chest anymore. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and gave a soft, silent whimper. He didn't want to go again. But the strange building ahead called to him.

Closing his eyes, dreading what was to come, he gathered his strength again and stood up again, and repeated his way.

What he found the most disturbing of all. Was that when he got there again. The man was waiting for him. And launched himself towards him this time. Eager to start battle.

And as a consequence, he died again. And again. And again to that monster of a man.

He had tried talking after a few deaths. Trying to convince the man to let him be.

Then he tried to get under his guard, and managed to get a few thwacks in. He had seen the dents form in the old armor, like it was molded clay.

But then he had kicked him over the edge. He had tried to hover, to fly even. But he couldn't. His ruined wings wouldn't allow it.

Then he tried to read his movements. And little by little, with each failure, with each death. He got a little better. He even managed to figure out how to use his wings. He couldn't fly, but he could use them to help him propel himself in various directions. They still had enough to give him a great boost of speed. And that helped a lot.

It didn't take long after that to gain some leverage against the man.

When he had done enough damage. It looked like the man would kneel, would surrender. But he turned. Into something. Into what Joseph could only describe as. A monster.

Again Joseph died. This time by the massive claw the thing had. The thing had grabbed him, and by Arceus. It had smelled foul. Like it would suffocate him with its stench alone. And then crushed him like you would a bug.

He tried again and this time, he didn't give up. He hammered at him, not letting up. And not letting an inch go by.

When he transformed again. He took one of the black things. His senses blurred. He was angry again. And he threw the black orb right at the things face.

It gave a mighty screeching howl as the black orb shattered and fire wrapped its way like tendrils. Licking away at the thing with strange, and even disgusting if not fascinating relish.

Joseph was stunned for a moment as the thing writhed. Fire was the answer. It somehow. Burned the thing.

Finding new strength and vigor, he launched himself towards the man turned monster. As he brought his weapon down, blue electrical currents running down the weapon, he smashed it again, and again, and again on the body, on the face. Especially the face. He felt the inky blackness give in. He felt the current of his wrath go down into the thing and deal blows from within.

He didn't stop until the thing disappeared into a strange light. The ground beneath him pockmarked, and caved in by his blows.

He was panting. He was shaking. The thing, the thing was dead. It was strange. The death of the thing had made him feel somehow. More stronger. More able. He wasn't sure on why. But it felt strange. But he was too tired to wonder about it now.

He collapsed again and gave soft whimpers and wheezes. Aches and pains he felt all across his body finally made themselves apparent to him. He had gotten hurt in the fight. But he hadn't noticed. The adrenaline, the rush of the fight had distracted him from it all.

Getting back to his feet, he braced himself on his knees, and wheezed one more time before turning back. Another one of those strange coiled swords that buried itself into the earth was there. Smackdab in the middle of the strange graveyard.

He looked around and saw the one he had drawn from the strange man and picked it up. Looking at it with strange curiosity now that he had the chance.

It seemed an awfully blunt weapon. And awfully useless. But then again, he was no expert. Maybe his dad…

That's right. His dad.. He wasn't here. Whatever glimmer of interest and curiosity he had faded with that thought. And his mind turned sour and forlorn. He looked back towards the sword in the ground, and like before he reached out to place his hand on the pummel, and it lit up. This time, Joseph didn't spring away. Rather he sat down and held at the strange sword for just a bit. Letting the welcoming hug of the fire's warmth wrap around him and make him feel better again. It took away his aches and pains. He let it just go for just a bit.

With a deep breath and a slow exhale. He opened his eyes again and looked at the closed gates ahead of him. He didn't know what he would find behind them. But he was sure, it wasn't anything good.

Standing up again and putting the weapon away. Somehow. He wasn't sure how he had done that. He just didn't want it in the way, and it was simply gone. He looked around, and blinked then shook his head. Magic, he thought to himself. It had to be magic. That was the only reason at least that he could find.

With that little reverey over, he made his way towards the gates and opened them with a heave, and they opened with a heavy, loud creak of hinges. The air around the doors smelled musty and old. It was clear no one had gone through here in ages and ages.

Behind the doors, he saw snow peaked mountains again over yonder, a wall and some trees that were old and shriveled up. He looked to the left, and saw a path that made his way towards those cloaked figures, and the strange building. From here he could see it was big. Really big.

Unsure once more. He grabbed at his mace and made his way up. The cloaked figures, like the others, tried to attack him. Pikes, broken swords and crossbows met him. And they met the fate of their friends.

Joseph didn't like it. But it was clear to him that he was doing what he had to do. It still made him sick to his stomach though. But he was forced to do what he did.

As the foes lay crumbled at the end of the path. Joseph made his way up and found a doorway leading into the large building.

Hesitantly, he made his way inside. Inside he saw five large thrones sitting on their own platforms, the middle was the largest and there were two each across on the left and right. On one which was on the left side, he barely spotted a haunched figure. He thought for a moment it was a large pillow or something, but no. It was a figure alright. And he couldn't tell from here, but it seemed to look human. Or at least. Human like.

As he made his way further in, he saw two more figures. One standing by a strange bowl, looking down, and he got the feeling that it was waiting for something.

The other figure, sat by one of the support pillars that held this building up. His hands on his lap, his head cast down, and he had the air of defeat about him.

Slowly Joseph made his way down the steps, and the figure he had seen standing by the strange bowl shifted her head towards him and spoke in a gentle, even melodic voice. And yes It was clearly a woman. She stood about, what he would guess 5'8, perhaps taller. And she had long blonde hair that reached nearly down to her waist, and she had pale skin. She was very fair and pretty. Yet she was also somehow sad.

"Oh Ashen one. You have finally returned to us to start your quest." She said to him, and Joseph stood at the bottom step, perplexed as he looked at where her eyes should be. And instead found a strange silver mask covering her eyes. The brim of it just barely ended where her nose started. He was silent for a moment, and she spoke again. "Do not be afraid Ashen one. There is no threat here." She said to him, and she reached her hand out, inviting him to come to her.

He slowly made his way to her, and took her hand.

She felt, strangely warm. She reminded him.. She reminded him of home. Somehow.

"Who.. Who are you?" He asked, his throat suddenly dry, and his voice husky. He tried to swallow it down, but it wasn't quite possible.

She seemed to smile, like she knew something he didn't. "I am the Firekeeper of this shrine. I am here to assist you on your quest to reignite the fire, and continue the cycle, as it has always been." She said to him. Her voice kind and her other hand slowly went to the strange basin at the middle of it all. "Place the sword you took from Iudex Gundyr, the champion that stood at our gates, and place it there, so that the fire can be reawoken. And so you may start your journey." She said to him and looked at him. No. Not looked. More like stared right through his soul.

He hesitated. Shifted and felt.. Uncomfortable as she somehow stared right through him. "Okay." He said finally and looked at the basin, and didn't quite know what to do. The Firekeeper as she called herself, seemed to be waiting. Even expectant. He looked down at the basin, and did what he had done before, but this time wanted to have the strange coiled sword in his hands, and it somehow just appeared.

He took it and plunged it down, and the ground seemed to eagerly take it in. The ash that lay there seemed to eagerly take in the sword, like it was so sharp that it made no effort, and then it simply stopped when it was a couple of inches down.

The basin somehow, felt complete.

Joseph stared at the fire as the familiar feeling of warmth wrapped around him, and he looked back at the Firekeeper, who seemed very pleased. Hesitantly, he made his way towards her and asked her. "Eh.. Miss." he said to her. "I need to ask. What am I doing here?" He asked her, and she looked his way, her expression perplexed. "Whatever do you mean? Do you not know your reason for being here?" She asked him, and he was going to shake his head, then remembered she looked to be blind. "Eh.. No." He admitted, and then explained to her where he was from, and how he had remembered he had gotten here, and what had happened on the way.

"Curiouser and curiouser." She said, humming gently in thought. After a while of eagerly awaited silence, she finally spoke. "I fear that I am not able to assist you in the endeavor of finding answers or to even answer the questions you have." She said to him, and gave a sad shake of her head. "I am duty bound to assist you oh Ashen one. But I fear that I lack the assistance you need." She said, and he slumped. He had hoped that she would have answers, but it seemed he wouldn't get anything so soon.

But she did add; "But. I am here to make you stronger, and assist you in any way I am able." She said to him, and when he asked on what she meant, she explained.

She explained how she would help him draw strength from souls, souls which he got from killing foes that were in his path. The greater the foe, the greater the souls he gained. And with each death, he would lose said souls.

She as well pointed down to another cavern that was in the shrine, and explained that the handmaiden that sat in a chair, barely visible to Joseph, and the smith Andre would all assist him in the way they could, at the best of their abilities.

Joseph then showed her the two flasks he had found, and she explained the use of each. The yellow one, was a estus flask she explained to him, it would help heal wounds as he drank from it. The other was an ashen flask. It helped him gain might once more as he used it. He wasn't sure what she meant there, but it seemed important. He then showed her the strange scale he found, and she smiled as she explained to him that it was something called a titanite shard. It was an important item for Andre to use, as he would use it to improve the weapons that Joseph held.

"And you must have strong weapons if you wish to defeat greater foes. Your enemies will not cower and let you do as you wish to them. They will fight you, and end your life if they can. And you are bound to return again and again until you either go hollow, or you achieve victory. I pray to you Ashen one. Do not go hollow." She said to him, and her voice was strained on begging as she asked him this.

He didn't know what going hollow was, or would do. But he guessed that it wasn't pleasant.

He then looked around, letting it all sink in. He stayed silent for a while, and he sat down on the steps just a few paces by. The Firekeeper followed him, and sat beside him, waiting diligently for him to speak.

The events that had unfolded all the way here ran across his mind. The deaths, the feelings of hopelessness and anger, and the feelings he had after what he had done. It suddenly just felt all too much.

It was all too much all too soon.

And now he was finding out that, he was stuck here. He was "Duty bound" to go around and gallivant to who knows where?

Finally his feelings came up to the brim and overflowed, and he went on a hurt, and finally properly crying tyrade. Tears ran down his cheeks as he screamed himself horse with his complaints.

"I want my mommy! I want my daddy! I want Nightmare! I want my family back, I don't want to be here anymore. I don't. I just want to go home. I hate it, I hate it here. Please, please just let me go home!" He pleaded, cried and wailed. Going on and on, saying he didn't want to die anymore. He didn't want this anymore.

He cried and cried, screaming out for his friends, for his parents, whom would hold him and say everything was okay again. He wailed himself and clung onto the strange woman beside him, and cried himself to sleep on her lap.

And the Firekeeper, true to her word, assisted him in any way she could. She listened to him, she stroked his head as he cried against her side, and let him lie down on her lap as he finally fell asleep. Exhausted, drained and emotionally shattered for now.

The hall of the shrine had gone silent for once. Andre's hammering had ceased, the big burly man of a smith, with his white gray hair looked on where he had heard those broken wails, the sadness of it had given him pause. And even the defeated man had looked up from his own sorrows to look at the strange, innocent creature, pity in his eyes as he looked at the sleeping figure of Joseph.

And even the one lord of cinder that had bothered to come here, sitting on his throne, gave a sad shake of his head. Not in disapproval, but in sympathy. The hall stayed silent for a few moments, before Andre's banging hammer sounded once more. The silent sympathy broken as everyone focused on their own tasks.


	4. Chapter 3: Beginnings

When Joseph finally woke up he woke with a start. The Firekeeper gently shifted and gave Joseph a patient and kind smile. He looked over to her and flushed as he remembered his breakdown.

After a long silence he gently rose back to a sitting position and cleared his throat a bit. "I'm sorry." He said to her, and wiped his eyes. It was unnecessary but it bought him time to collect his thoughts.

"There is no need to apologise. In your shoes, I would think it is very normal. You were clearly thrust into the duty you bear against your own will. You are no warrior." She said and stayed silent, her head turned to him as if she could gaze right at him. Her voice was gentle, yet firm and encouraging. "But you must become one. You must steel your kind heart against the horrors of a warriors life." She said to him and her hands gently met his, and gave him a squeeze. Her grip was so gentle. Yet it held a lot of strength. Not physical, but rather in intent.

He looked at her, and gave a shift as he sat. He looked uncomfortable at the thought, but he gave her a nod. "I'll try." He said and her grip turned a little tighter. "No Ashen one. You must." She said and her voice brokered no argument.

He wanted to argue, but he found no strength to do so. Her words completely stone walled him and he could only say. "I will." And giving a shaky nod she seemed to be satisfied.

She released him and stood up. "Come now Ashen one. You have rested enough." She said to him as she ushered him up. "A day has already passed in your sleep. You should be ready to start." She said in reply, and he stared at her. Befuddled at her words. "I.. Slept for a whole day?" He asked and she gave a nod in response. "Or rather, roughly sixteen hours. And you do not need to worry. Time here is, complicated. So no time has been wasted in your slumber." She said to him, and he was confused by her meaning.

And as if seeing, or sensing his confusion, she told him to dispel any of his worries. "Time here is at a standstill. While the Lords of Cinder remain unslain, the world shall be standing still in time. Time passes as we know it, yet the world does not change." She explained to him as she looked to him, giving him a smile as she explained to the best of her abilities. And he could see that she had given an answer she thought would suffice.

Giving a nod, and then realizing she didn't see him, he said. "Okay. I think I understand it. Just a bit." He said as he looked at her and then around them. "So, where to, where do I start?" He asked as he looked around them and she pointed to the coiled sword and the strange basin. "You must go there and will your intent to go to the next location. Which is located on the High Wall of Lothric. There you must go next." She explained to him.

He was about to go, but to his surprise, a man he had seen seeming buried in his own thoughts, stood up and called out to them. "Wait." He said, and reached out to them. Stepping down the steps a bit. He came to a halt as he reached out to them. The man was wearing armor and what seemed to be a hood made of chains around his head. He carried an odd sword and a shield at his back.

Joseph looked at the man, and shifted. He looked.. Desperate somehow. And Joseph wasn't sure on how to look at the man before him.

"Wait." He said again as he approached Joseph. His eyes only for the strange creature before him. Standing now in front of him, he could see that the man stood a few inches above him. He seemed to be at a 5'9 or 10. "I heard of your pain before and. Well." He said, pausing to think. "I wish to help if I can." He said to Joseph, and reached out a gloved hand, and Joseph slowly, and cautiously took his hand.

"My name is Hawkwood." He said to Joseph and his eyes, watery and droopy from a kind of sad exhaustion looked at Joseph with pity. This fact made him slightly uncomfortable because it only emphasized on how much he had lost control the day before.

"And I wish to help you in any way I can." he said and then gestured to the weapon that was at Joseph's side. "Do you know how to wield that?"

Awkward and embarrassed. Joseph shook his head. "Not really. I've just been swinging it about I guess." He said and Hawkwood looked at him and gave a grim nod.

"Alright." He said. The statement having assured the warrior somehow. "Then I will have to teach you." He said and looked at the Fire Keeper, as if waiting for her approval. And she gave a nod of her head.

"A warrior is nothing without his skills to survive." She said, and that seemed to encourage Hawkwood.

The man led Joseph to an upper area of the strange building and to a cliffside area that had a strange and tall, almost human like tree, which was somehow hollow where the face would be. Next to that a road led towards a gated tower. Joseph looked up and saw that to the left was a ladder that would lead to the roof of the building, while the taller tower seemed to lead somewhere else.

"Alright. Here we will have a bit of space to move and have some privacy." He said to Joseph.

Up in that nook of the shrine, Hawkwood taught Joseph all he could and knew how to wield his weapons.

He taught him some of the finer points of some that would be useful. How knives could be used to slide into the defenses of armor, thus doing further damage to his foes. How to stab or bludgeon his foes at their back or front. Or how to parry with some shields and how to use that to his own advantage while they stayed stunned by the blow, demonstrating it to Joseph when he voiced his disbelief in its effectiveness. Only to be of course, stunned several times by a well placed parry bash with Hawkwoods wooden shield.

Joseph reeled and stumbled as the effect of the blow subsided. He had to shake his head to clear it. "What was that?" Asked Joseph, whom shook his hand a bit. He had felt vibrations going through his weapon and hand. Nothing severe, but it had felt odd.

"That, was a parry bash, as I explained before. It gives you a chance to come in closer to a stunned target, and give them a blow that will severely weaken them, or even help crumple their armor." Hawkwood explained as best he could. "You can even, if you have the fortitude to carry a weapon of greater mass, and even wield it properly, bash right through your enemies defenses. It can lead to the same results, or blindside them and give them a crippling blow from there."

He had explained as much as he could. Even explained, when Joseph had asked about magic, the properties of magic and faith. But he knew little of it, only mentioning he had heard scraps about Pyromancy. And even then he knew scarcely little.

Joseph thanked him for teaching him profusely. But Hawkwood only gave him a smile, that seemed rather sad, and apologetic.

"I did what I could for you, young man. I couldn't bear having you go out, knowing nothing about how to protect yourself." He explained. "You've already tasted how this world is like." He said, then seemed to pause, look ashamed and embarrassed before asking.

"If you can allow me to make one request. I only ask that you don't lose yourself." He said to him. His hand firm, but gentle on his shoulder. "You mustn't lose yourself my young man. Never." He said, and Joseph was confused. What did he mean by that? Did it connect something with what the Firekeeper had said? Going hollow?

With nothing else to say, he just gave a nod and said; "I won't sir." And that seemed to mollify Hawkwoods mood, if just a little. And he walked with him to the main chamber of the shrine.

As the two walked back down, Hawkwood removed himself, and went back to his corner, and put his hands back to his lap as he sat, and settled his head in a forlorn way.

Joseph went back to the Firekeeper, who stood by the basin with its sword stuck there, awaiting him.

It then struck him he never asked on how he would know if he had enough souls to draw strength from. So he asked how he would know if he gained, lost, or had enough.

The Firekeeper hummed gently in thought, a finger touching her chin as she contemplated a way to explain what most knew already.

"Extend out your hand and put it on your chest." She said to him, and he did as asked. "And now concentrate on your will. Concentrate on wanting to know your soul count." She explained, and he did as asked. It took him a few tries, but when he could get it, he felt the knowledge of how many souls he had flood to his mind. And currently, he knew he had enough to increase his might a few times.

He asked on how he would be able too, and she smiled as she showed him the ritual.

Suffice to say, he didn't expect her to be the actual catalyst of his might. But she was.

He felt that he had attributes that he could increase.

It was his vigor, attunement, endurance, vitality, strength, dexterity, intelligence, faith, and luck.

How he knew this, he had no idea.

He reviewed what he had. His vitality was. Well it was shit. That's all he could say, it was shit. So he put a wish to increase it a few notches, as well as his endurance so he wouldn't be winded so much. Attunement and vitality he had no idea what they meant, but he could figure out strength, and put a few in there as well.

He saw his intelligence was rather high, and his faith low. He had no idea what that meant, but he would ponder it later.

His luck seemed to be okay, but he had no idea what it meant either.

Making sure he put all available points into what he wanted. Going for what he thought was a smart move, and putting the last into his vigor a bit more, and one more to strength.

When he was done, he felt… better.

He couldn't explain it. Be just felt. Better. Stronger, and more somehow.

He blinked and shook his head. Looking at the Firekeeper, whom only smiled.

"You have done well Ashen one." She said to him, giving his cheek a gentle caress. Which made him smile. "Now, continue your journey." She reminded him as she nudged him to the basin and he gave her a nod.

With a shaky hand, he reached his hand out, and wished his will to go where he wanted. To High Wall of Lothric.

And with a feeling like he was being sunk into darkness once again. A darkness came over him, and the feeling of falling this time. Not as uncomfortable as when he died. This didn't feel like he was being drowned, but whisked away by some unseeing force.

Then he came to a stop. Standing perfectly still in a dingy old room, which was covered in barely visible banners. The only light coming from dingy windows that allowed some light to escape.

It was enough for him that he could see a replica of the basin and sword on a sort of altar, and see the outline of a door.

With a sigh as he looked around, seeing nothing of use, he made his way towards the door. And opened it to walk into brisk cold air, and sunlight.


End file.
